


Actions and Words

by buriedbybooks



Category: Leverage
Genre: 5+1 Things, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:40:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25107886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buriedbybooks/pseuds/buriedbybooks
Summary: Five Times Parker shows her partners that she loves them and one time she uses the words.
Relationships: Alec Hardison/Parker/Eliot Spencer
Comments: 10
Kudos: 128





	Actions and Words

**Author's Note:**

> I _needed_ to write something soft from Parker’s point of view where I wouldn’t need to use so many “words”.

**1.**  
Hardison was sitting in the main debriefing area with a laptop out and a stack of papers beside him. Leaning in the doorway, Parker watched him, confident that Hardison wouldn’t know she was there unless she told him. He didn’t have the physical awareness that the others did, especially Eliot who always seemed to know when she was behind him.

The hacker had been quieter than usual on the trip back from Serbia. Hardison had made sure that they had seats and flights, including a layover in Paris to make Sophie happy, but other than that, he hadn’t engaged with the team much. Hardison had stayed tethered to his computer since they’d left the orphans with the volunteers from WHO. Once they’d returned, Hardison had come straight back to headquarters and opened up the laptop again.

Parker tried to put together the pieces she knew, what she’d learned, and what she was seeing now. Hardison had been in the system, but had ended up in a good home. That had surprised her; Hardison seemed so… normal. Good homes had been something of a myth to her, something she’d never witnessed either herself or from the experience of others. She thought she’d recognize other products of the system.

Hardison was different from other men she’d known. He was patient and present in a way Parker didn’t understand, but appreciated. He was there without being a threat. And he understood. She had been hurting after seeing the orphans, and that horror had been reflected in Hardison’s eyes. The hacker had argued, pressed that they could save the kids from this one orphanage. A drop in the bucket.

He hadn’t believed her when she said she was alright leaving the children there. He was the reason the team had gotten her out.

Hardison was there. He watched, but didn’t push into her space.

Parker wandered in and leaned against the table next to Hardison, pushing a few of the papers with a fingertip.

The hacker looked up. “Hey, girl.”

Parker frowned down at the papers. Each one pictured the face of one of the orphans.

“What are you doing?”

Hardison looked at the papers she had now spread out across the table, each set of weary eyes staring up at them. “I just wanted to make sure we learn what happens to them. I’ve been adding their pictures to my facial recognition software, and entering whatever data WHO has gathered on them. It’s not much, but I should get an alert whenever one of them gets placed.”

Parker didn’t know what to say. This was so far beyond what she had known, so far beyond what the team had discussed. But Hardison was like that. She had seen he was the softest of them, the one who still had ties to his family, who showed his vulnerability.

He didn’t enter her space, but she could enter his.

Parker leaned against his side for a moment. Longer than the shoulder bumps they had exchanged before, a tangible contact that wasn’t fleeting. Hardison smiled up at her, eyes happy but questioning.

Too long, and Parker felt the discomfort like an itch between her shoulders. Pulling out the chair next to him, she sat and started organizing the papers.

Hardison went back to typing, but the smile stayed in his eyes.

**2.**  
Eliot was in the kitchen again, cooking something. He had started doing this for the team regularly once they were in a headquarters with a full sized kitchen. It was a way of speaking, of caring for them all without needing to harm anyone else. Parker knew that she didn’t always get what it was that Eliot was trying to say with his dishes, but she found that watching him cook was better.

Watching him now, though, did not help her settle the way it normally did. Parker was perched on the counter that he wasn’t using, bowl of dry cereal in hand, but the tension remained in her shoulders instead of easing. This last job had been a hard one, and Eliot had ended up fighting with some highly trained guards in order to make sure she made it out. Now Eliot wasn’t moving right. Normally, his movements were effortless, graceful and controlled. Parker could see that he was favoring one leg and his hands shook slightly as he tried to control the strokes of his knife.

Parker understood fatigue. She was familiar with pain. She had pushed her body to its limits. Like Eliot, she treated her body as a tool, so she knew that his muscles were aching and weary, just from that slight tremor.

And he was internalizing all of it--the fight, the close call. Eliot’s shoulders were still bunched up, and he hadn’t even turned around to glare at her for either sitting on the counter.

Parker frowned as she munched her cereal. He was easier to read when he ran hot. She preferred it when she could see inside him through his outbursts and his sarcasm, which loosened his body as well as his control.

Eliot took another step over to the fridge to pull something out, and his gate hitched.

Enough was enough. This wasn’t Eliot. It was an Eliot shadow in Eliot’s place.

Parker set her bowl down and slipped off the counter. Eliot was still leaning into the fridge, one hand white-knuckled on the door’s handle as he looked for something.

He’d been icing his shoulder, Parker remembered, so she jabbed there first.

Eliot twitched and jerked, the additional torsion on the door handle making it creak a bit. But he didn’t turn around to glare at her. He didn’t move to get away from her. He was still closed down.

Parker poked him again, changing her target slightly. She relished the give of his muscle under her finger, and the wince that told her Eliot was _there_.

He still didn’t turn around. Didn’t move. So she did it again, harder.

Finally, Eliot growled, and she could feel stress drain out of both of them. “You’re not going to stop, are you?”

Parker poked him again for good measure, then rubbed the spot with her thumb before returning to her perch on the counter and her cereal. Eliot looked over his shoulder at her with a glare.

“Fine,” he huffed. Eliot moved a few things aside and pulled out a bottle that held some sort of seasoning which he added to the steaming saute pan on the stove. Though he still wasn’t moving quite right, he was Eliot again.

Parker crunched her cereal with gusto.

**3.**  
Parker didn’t like losing, didn’t like the knowledge that they’d screwed up and misplaced the tape. 

But her dislike of the situation was nothing compared to the fury in Eliot’s voice over the comms. “Help or don't help, but don’t tell me it’s too late.”

Parker felt her frown deepen; she had come to hate the idea of no second chances. She scowled at Sophie for saying it. Nate, though. Nate seemed to think they might be able to do something. Break the rules.

She followed. She watched as Hardison was able to delay Kirkwood using the Kenneth Crane fans. They made it to the music venue and Hardison had disappeared to set up somewhere. Parker stood beside Sophie and watched as Kirkwood came in from the other side and passed a disc up to the man in the booth. They were out of time; the two minutes Hardison had bought them weren’t enough.

Parker resisted the urge to fuss at the fake eyelashes that had been itching for the last two hours.

Her pride was hurt that this case wasn’t going according to plan. Eliot, though. Eliot was _invested_ and this case mattered to him in a way that it didn’t to her or the others. Knowing that they were short, were going to fail by minutes… Failing would hurt Eliot more deeply than the rest. She had seen this only a few times, during cases when Eliot had gotten too close to their client. It made him edgy, made him almost as vulnerable as Hardison. Parker didn’t like it when he did this; he was supposed to be the solid one.

Minutes. Such a short period of time. She had been the distraction most of the day, playing her role as memorable and bizarre as she could make it. And every time she blinked, Parker was reminded that she was still in costume.

She looked at the stage, looked at Kirkwood making his way that direction. Parker didn’t like being exposed, didn’t like that sort of attention. But Eliot had done it. Eliot cared that much.

They only needed minutes.

Parker hurried toward the stage, thinking of the voices and mannerisms she’d put into her character. Drew them close, pulled them around her. Better than thinking about all the people staring at her as she climbed up in front of them. The lights were hot, and actually made it hard to see the sea of faces.

Vocalize. Be weird enough. Distract the crowd and delay Kirkwood until Eliot could get the girl in here to sing.

She held out as long as she could, but Parker was running out of things to do. She couldn’t sing, didn’t know the lyrics to songs to even _try_ , so she squawked and made silly noises. Pranced about and generally made a spectacle. When the bouncers came to drag her off stage, she let them. Parker just hoped that she had bought enough time.

Looking around from the safety of the corner the bouncers had deposited her in, she couldn’t see anyone. Kirkwood stalked onto the stage, guitar in hand and Parker frowned. Where was Eliot?

Kirkwood was singing when she finally spotted Eliot on the opposite side of the stage, leaning relaxed against one of the pillars. He was looking up and behind her, and she heard the girl’s voice filter in from overhead. Parker supposed it was good, but Eliot’s was better. She stared at the hitter as he smiled up at the girl in the balcony.

She finished the song, and then Kirkwood’s came in over the speakers, confessing to murder. Parker snorted. Of course Hardison would tap that in for all to hear. As Eliot crossed the room to intercept Kirkwood’s retreat off stage, Parker caught his eye for just a moment. There was a flicker of an eyelid, a slight raising of one eyebrow and a crooked smile.

Parker went to find Hardison and let Eliot wrap things up.

**4.**  
Hardison was sitting at the dining room table, laptop out in front of him, phone by his hand. Parker noted it, but didn’t really think about it on her way to the kitchen. Eliot glared at her when she grabbed a bag of chocolate bits out of the cupboard and poured herself a bowl. She twitched her nose at him and topped up the bowl.

Her plan had been to return to studying schematics for the next job, but something about Hardison made her stop. She leaned back against the counter and watched him for a moment.

He was too still. That was the problem. Hardison usually had an energy that filled his movements, even the small ones that he made while his mind was elsewhere. Now he just stared at the laptop, hands stretched out to rest unmoving on the keyboard. The hacker’s shoulders were rounded. Every so often, he’d flick his eyes to his phone, obviously checking the screen for something that wasn’t there.

Parker frowned and munched another handful of chocolate. This wasn’t case related, she didn’t think. She turned her head and tilted it at Eliot, knowing he’d understand the question. The hitter just shook his head and shrugged, going back to stirring a sauce on the stovetop.

Not helpful. Parker furrowed her brows at him, even though he’d already turned away.

She considered Hardison a moment. Parker knew that she was better at reading his body language now, though she wasn’t always right in figuring out how to interact with it. He’d been giving her as much space and time as she needed to figure out… pretzels… and how she wanted their relationship to develop. And in trying to figure it out, Parker had made a study of Hardison, catalogued his reactions, his patterns. This was not one she was familiar with, but she also knew how important contact was to the hacker. He _liked_ hugs, and holding hands, and even just standing close enough so that their arms would brush each other.

Parker could see that he probably needed that now.

Setting her bowl aside, Parker wandered over and hunched down so that she could rest her chin on his head and look at the laptop screen.

It was dark.

“I can’t read that,” she told him.

Hardison hadn’t jumped when she draped herself over him. He did let out a rusty chuckle at her words and tilted his head back so that now her chin was on his forehead. “Got distracted.”

“By what?” Parker demanded.

Hardison sighed and moved to look at his phone again. The fuzz of his hair tickled her chin as he shifted.

“One of my foster sibs is having a hard time; she’s not really fitting in at school,” Hardison finally said. “Nana asked me to talk with her, but she hasn’t called.”

Parker shifted around so that she was sitting on the table and could see Hardison’s face better. This was really bothering him. She tilted her head.

“It’s more than that,” she poked.

The hacker’s smile was wry. “We were closer when we were younger--she was a sweet kid. Now she’s got a chip on her shoulder. I don’t know what to say to help her with this.”

Parker could hear Eliot’s snort and tried not to smile because she was pretty sure Hardison hadn’t registered the hitter’s amusement. The hitter was right, though. Hardison also had a chip on his shoulder. Why else would a teen hack into the Pentagon?

She nudged his thigh with her foot. “You’re good with words. You’ll know what to say.”

Hardison smiled at her, then jumped as his phone rang. Blowing out a breath, he picked it up and wandered away from the table with a soft smile and the brush of a hand against her shoulder.

“Hey, Bee, you making trouble again?”

The affection she could hear in Hardison’s voice as he walked out of range told Parker she was right. Hardison could always find the right words for the people he cared about. He’d be alright.

**5.**  
Eliot was still refusing to go to the hospital, so they ended up back at their hotel. Hardison was helping Eliot strip down and get cleaned up and Parker hunted through their gear for more bandages.

She looked down at her hand as she felt it tremble around a package of gauze. Parker clenched it, willing that tremor away. The job wasn’t done yet. Not quite. She needed her partners cleaned up, where she could see them. Safe. They were safe.

Grabbing the supplies, brought them into the bathroom. Eliot was perched on the closed lid of the toilet, stripped down to a pair of boxers. The ruined t-shirt and jeans were in a pile in the corner to be thrown out later. The hitter leaned his head back slightly, eyes half lidded as he watched Hardison’s hands. The hacker perched on the edge of the bathtub as he gently used a washcloth to clean away the dried streaks of blood. The contrast of the white washcloth turned pink in Hardison’s strong, dark hand made something clench in her chest.

Today had been close, but they’d done it. Eliot had promised, and it was done.

She knelt on the floor in front of Eliot and checked both his shoulder and his thigh. Hardison had left the gauze pads taped in place, and had obviously been working around them. Parker agreed, best to leave those in place and replace the strapping to hold them better.

Opening a package, she placed one end on the top of Eliot’s right shoulder and then flicked his cheek with her finger.

Eliot’s eyes moved to look at her, and the crinkles at the corners were reassuring. He reached up and held the gauze in place while Parker wound the roll down and around the joint, then across and around his chest a few times so that it was secure but not too tight. After she tied it off, she gently pressed her finger against the side of the bandage, enough to feel the give, but not enough to make Eliot flinch.

Curling over slightly, the hitter brushed his lips against her forehead. “Nothing that won’t heal, sweetheart.”

Parker nodded. She then wound gauze around his thigh to hold that one in place.

Hardison must have left and come back while she was working, because he handed Eliot a pair of sweats and a loose t-shirt. Parker helped the hitter stand, and let herself be used as a prop while Eliot got himself dressed again. When he dropped the shirt down over his head, Parker left her hand under it, warm against his belly. Then she walked with him to the couch and let him down gently.

“You know that all this ain’t necessary,” he drawled softly as she studied him.

Parker shrugged. Not necessary for him, maybe, but for them… She could see in his expression that Eliot had understood; it was why he had let them fuss a bit. He was as tactile and physical as she was, so the contact of hands on skin would have reassured him as much as her and Hardison.

She wandered back into the bathroom and watched Hardison. He was standing at the sink, water running as he rinsed out the washcloth. Parker could see the tremors in his fingers turn to shakes that coursed up his arms. The hitter dropped the washcloth into the sink and gripped the edges of it until his knuckles paled, head hanging down between his shoulders.

Making sure that her footsteps were loud enough for Hardison to hear, Parker came over and draped herself against his back for a moment. It didn’t seem like enough, so she latched onto his shoulders and lifted herself so that she could twine herself around him.

Hardison finally turned off the tap and wrapped his arms under her legs. They stayed like that for a moment, and Parker felt Hardison’s shivers abate.

“We should let Eliot pick the movie tonight,” Parker decided.

She felt Hardison’s laugh through his ribs more than heard it. “As long as it isn’t _Outbreak_ or _Contagion_ , I can deal with that.”

**+1**  
Parker found Hardison and Eliot sitting in lawn chairs in front of the large screen TV in their apartment when she returned from meeting with a potential client. The two of them were holding what looked like parts of fishing rods in their hands and bickering. From the empty beer bottles between them, her partners had been at this for a while.

Parker quietly perched on the couch behind them, and watched. Their lawn chairs were close enough that whenever one went to cast, he ended up elbowing the other. It looked deliberate most times, comfortable.

Hardison was obviously more skilled with the virtual game than Eliot. He would tease, and the hitter would snipe back. Eliot started intentionally knocking against Hardison to ruin his cast, causing the hacker to complain vociferously.

Parker grinned as she watched them. To her, it was obvious that Eliot was winding Alec up, and just waiting until the hacker dissolved in laughter. Watching Hardison laughing so hard that he could barely breathe was one of her favorite things, too. So open, so giving. It was one of the things that drew her to him, and she knew it was the same for Eliot. And Eliot knew just how to push Hardison to it.

Hardison broke, laughing and cursing when Eliot’s elbow got him in the ribs. Eliot, with a smirk on his face, tossed aside his controller and dragged Alec in for a kiss with a hand behind the hacker’s neck.

Slipping down to the floor so that she was crouched behind them, Parker watched. Eliot’s hand strong and sure, Hardison caught between laughter and heat as their mouths met.

When they drew back to catch a breath, foreheads still touching because Eliot was not letting Alec go, Parker leaned close so that her forehead touched theirs. From this vantage, she could see their eyes smile in welcome.

“I love you,” she told them.

They belonged to each other. They were hers.

The briefing could wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently I continue to be remiss in not letting people know that I'm also over on Tumblr under the same name, buriedbybooks, where I also post fan art. Feel free to come by and visit, shoot me an ask, dm, request, or prompt.


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